Albus Potter: The Epilogue Continued
by Notit
Summary: The story picks up right where the epilogue left off, JK Rowling Style. The following is based on JK Rowling’s world and characters and follows the adventures of James Potter, Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, Lysander Scamander, and Scorpius Malfoy.
1. The Hogwarts Express

**The Epilogue Continued**

**This story will take place 19 years after Harry Potter's Final Battle with Voldemort. Harry **_**(head of the Auror Department)**_** and Ginny Potter **_**(who played professional Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies before becoming the Senior Quidditch Correspondent for the Daily Prophet)**_** have three kids: James Sirius Potter **_**(third year, Gryffindor)**_**, Albus Severus Potter **_**(first year)**_**, and Lily Luna Potter **_**(age 9)**_**. --Bill and Fleur Weasley have two daughters: Victorire **_**(Gryffindor, 7th year)**_** and Clare **_**(Ravenclaw, 5th year)**_**. --Charlie and his wife, Brigita Weasley, live in Romania and have three kids who attend Beauxbatons: Dragomire, Tullia, and Cami. --Percy still works at the ministry and runs for minister of magic every few years. –George (successful businessman, owns several business) and Angelina Weasley have four kids: Fred (Gryffindor, 6th year), Christopher (Gryffindor, 5th year), Roxanne (Gryffindor, 2nd year), and Howard (age 10). --Ron (works at the Auror Department and also joined George in business) and Hermione (high up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement) have two kids: Rose (first year) and Hugo (age 9). --Luna married Rolf Scamander (a fellow naturalist) and has two boys: Lorcan (Ravenclaw, 4th year) and Lysander (first year, I know JK said that they were twins, but I didn't like that, sorry JK). –Neville (Herbology Professor) married Hannah Abbott (landlady of The Leaky Cauldron) and they have one daughter: Abbey Longbottom (Gryffindor, 6th year). --Draco married Asteria Greengrass and they have one son: Scorpius (first year). This story will not be regularly updated, but I promise I will not abandon it for too long.**

**Author's Notes:**

I don't own any of this. I have tried to keep the story loyal to the writings and interviews of JK Rowling, but I know not everything will line up with JK's thoughts. This story takes place 19 years after Deathly Hallows, so take a pinch of time dust, reread the epilogue, and prepare to transport yourself 19 years into the future.

Chapter One

The Hogwarts Express

Thick white steam poured from the Hogwarts Express as it pulled out of the station; the low rattling, rumble of the train against the tracks grew steadier as the train began to pick up speed. Rose Weasley and Albus Potter watched as platform nine and three quarters sped away and hung out the window waving until their parents had disappeared from sight.

"Guess it's just us now," Rose whispered softly. Her short bushy red hair toppled messily around her face as she pulled her head back through the window. She straightened up and suddenly adopted her very bossy, Aunt Hermione-ish tone. "Come on. We need to change into our school uniforms right away, so we'll be ready."

Albus ran his hand through his dark hair nervously, making it look even more untidy than it usually did. Inside the train his hair looked black, but when the sunlight hit it you could tell it was actually dark red. Al looked a lot like his father without glasses or the famous scar, except his dad didn't have freckles.

Rose dragged her trunk down the corridor ahead of him singing the Hogwarts school song under her breath to the tune of a slow and almost mournful funeral march, "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts …"

Al knew she had learned this latest version from Uncle George, but Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card had been singing the school song in different rhythms and tunes ever since they first received their Hogwarts letters.

He dragged his trunk after her, past overflowing chaotic compartments. Al remembered the front page story of the daily profit had that morning: "Attendance is Up: Record Number of Students Head to Hogwarts." He hoped his brother or one of his cousins had thought to save them a seat. Shrieks of laughter and shouts drifted out of open compartment doors throughout the train. Above them, flocks of creatively folded flying notes flitted along the ceiling, flapping in and out of compartments in search of their recipients.

"We finally going aren't we?" Albus asked, still feeling slightly dazed at the thought of going away to school, and not just any school, but Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was hard to imagine living anywhere other than home.

"I'm not sure. Al, give me a pinch!" He was looking into the compartments as they went by and didn't notice that Rose had stopped suddenly, until he had banged his knee painfully on the corner of her trunk.

"Al, will you give me a pinch?"

"Wha—? Why?" Asked Al, baffled by her odd request. She rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm "Have you gone ment—"

"Just trust me. I might be dreaming; how else will I know?"

"You really have gone mental." Albus rolled his bright green eyes. They were, as he had often been told, his grandmother, Lily's, eyes. Al began to squeeze his trunk past hers.

"Fine, I'll do it myself!"

Albus watched with mild fascination as she pinched a bit of skin on her forearm between her fingers, scrunched up her blue eyes, and twisted. He wondered, as he had many times, why he let her be the leader of their duo.

"Ouch!" She released it as large pink blanch formed on her arm.

Albus smirked. "Up till now, I thought you were the smart one."

Rose followed him down the corridor looking slightly hurt. "Lorcan says if you don't get pinched, the Nygrees will keep you dreaming forever and you'll never wake up again."

"Nygrees aren't real--" he told her, but truthfully he wasn't sure. He grinned, torn between whether he should laugh or apologize. Luna, Lorcan's mum, was a naturalist and traveled the world researching little heard of creatures. Nygrees could exist.

"Oi, Al, there you are." James shouted at him out of a compartment door up ahead. "We were beginning to wonder if you had gone to join the Slytherins already."

"How is the newest member of the Slytherin house?" Fred joked, tossing his bag up onto the luggage rack.

"Have you made any slithering fiends yet?" Christopher chimed in, looking up from his book-- which screamed softly as he tucked it into his bag.

"Shut up."

Al felt his ears turning crimson and considered for a moment turning and going out the way he had came; sitting with strangers might be better than having to listen to his cousins' jokes all the way to Hogwarts.

But he sank into a seat near the window anyway, thinking about what his dad had told him on the platform-- about Slytherin and the two head masters for which he was named. His stomach squirmed; despite his dad's reassurance, he hoped the sorting hat wouldn't send him to Slytherin.

Roxanne glared at her older brothers and cousin over the top of her copy of the Quibbler. "Don't worry Al, they told me the same thing last year, but it turned out alright."

Victoire appeared in the doorway already in her school robes. A Head Girl badge gleamed on her chest. "There you are!" She beamed around at all of them. "Come with me Rose, I have to do something with your hair. You can't go up in front of the entire school looking the way you do. Roxanne, go find Clare, I'll do your hair too."

"What about me?" Fred asked running his fingers through his dark frizzy hair to make it stand on end. It was short enough to keep from blowing into his eyes during Quidditch, yet just ungroomed enough to look like he was overdue for a hair cut.

"I know a lost cause when I see one, but I guess I could try." She frowned slightly. "Some sleek and smooth might actually help."

Rose gave Albus a desperate glance before allowing herself to be led down the corridor by her cousin.

Albus changed into his school robes and slipped out of the compartment as James and Dan Bones, a third year, started a game of wizards' chess. He took off in the opposite direction of Victoire and Rose peeking into compartments as he passed, searching for someone, but not really sure who.

Lysander was suppose to be a first year too this year he remembered. Lysander was Lorcan's younger brother, Luna's youngest. He spotted a boy with white blonde hair sitting and looking out the window in a compartment with a few other students that looked like they must be first years.

"Hey, Lysander!" Al walked cheerfully into the compartment; quite sure it had to be him. The boy turned around, he wasn't Lysander, but he looked vaguely familiar. He hesitated a moment.

"Oh, sorry I thought you were someone else. Do I know you?" Al knew it sounded kind of dumb to ask, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen the boy somewhere before.

The boy looked slightly shocked, but he quickly recomposed his face into a competent expressing and held out his hand, "The name is Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy, you must be a Potter." He added with a smug smile.

"Erm—yeah, Albus Potter" He wasn't quite sure if he should shake his hand or not, but decided it would be rude not to. He suddenly remembered where he had seen the boy before; Uncle Ron had pointed him out when they were at Kings Cross Station.

He was Draco Malfoy's son, and he knew all about the Malfoys. Their whole family had served the dark lord, the one his dad, Harry Potter, had defeated— Lord Voldemort. Albus shook the boy's hand. "Nice to meet you," he added a little awkwardly.

"Potter? Hey, are you related to Harry Potter?" one of the boys asked.

Albus gave a small smile as he backed out of the compartment, "Oh him. Yes, he's my dad." The boy gaped at him and all at once the attention of everyone in the compartment was focused on him. "Well, I-- see you later then." Al turned and hurried out of the compartment before the boy could call him back and nearly collided with the old lady in dark purple robes pushing the food trolley.

"Watch it! Anything off the trolley, dear?" she asked him, her dark eyes were distorted behind her thick glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose. Mum had given James some gold to buy snacks with before they left and he did feel a little hungry.

"Sure, I'd need to get some gold; I don't have any with me." Al told her.

"That's alright dear. Take a chocolate frog—you never know, you might get one of your father, he is a famous wizard, I would recognize those eyes anywhere." Her eyes locked steadily on his as she smiled at him.

He smiled nervously under her unrelenting gaze and took the chocolate frog she handed him, "Thank you."

"Your welcome dear, anytime," she warmly told him. She leaned over between the hanging black and red licorice wands. "Tell your dad I said hi, won't you dear?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell him, thanks." She didn't seem to need to blink as much as an ordinary person. Not sure what else to say, he turned and headed back down the corridor the way he had come, anxious to shake the sensation of the old witch's unrelenting gaze.

It wasn't unusual for strangers to know who he was—especially thanks to reporters like Rita Skeeter, who tailed his family asking for quick quote interviews whenever the news was slow. He often wished that he was a metamorphous like Teddy or at least that he looked less noticeably like his father.

"Check Mate!" James shouted happily as his knight smashed into Dan's queen, turning her stone body to rubble. Al slid the compartment door shut behind him and sat down on the floor next to his brother.

"That was the most pathetic game of chess ever," said Roxanne smugly, as she walked into compartment behind Al.

"You weren't even here," said James a little defensively.

"I still know it was pathetic, any game you win has to be."

"Do you really think you can beat the chess champ?"

"Do you want to play four ways? Al and I verse you and Dan?"

"Sure!" James pulled out his wand from the sleeve of his robe. "Expandio" James whispered as he tapped the chess board with his wand, two more rows of squares magically grew out of each side. The game Four Ways was Uncle Ron's invention, it was just like regular wizarding chess only the chess board was expanded to make room for four sets of chess men.

Al pulled out his own chess men out of his trunk and lined them up on the board; they turned a deep shade of emerald. The chessmen always picked a color different from the other sets on the board, but you could never tell what color they would choose. James's had already turned to black stone and Dan's were bright ruby red. Margaret sat down cross-legged on the floor with them and set up her men, which turned pale bronze.

Four Ways was a chaotic game, but its rules were simple: the player with the last remaining king wins. Lately they had started to play in teams, so that two sets of chessmen attacked the other two sets, the team with the last king standing won the game.

They were halfway through the stack of sweets the others had bought when Rose slid back the compartment door and rejoined them. Her hair was pulled back in a formal up do with bunches of shinny curls around her face. Al didn't say anything, but he secretly thought it had looked better before. Roxanne grinned at her.

"Finished already? I thought Victoire was going to do make-up too!"

"She was, but luckily someone set off a dung-bomb near the end of the train. How did you escape so quickly?" Rose asked irritably trying to twist the curls out of her face.

"It's just because you're a first year," said Roxanne knowingly. She flipped her long, dark red hair—which Victoire had charmed into shiny straight locks—over her shoulder and imitated Victoire's cheerful voice, "You never get a second chance a first impression. You must look your best."

"I miss Ted," said Roxanne in her normal voice. "Vicky was a lot more bearable when he was around, so long as they weren't sucking off each other's faces."

Rose pulled a face and cheered as Roxanne's bishop tackled James' rook and began to beat him to pieces.

The train trip passed quickly. It was even enjoyable. The older students seemed to be continuously moving about. Al had been introduced to so many people that he wasn't sure he would remember them all. And his brother and cousins completely forgot— between catching up with old friends and drilling Jake Cresswell for details about the slightly bloody vampire fang necklace he had brought with him to school—to tease him about becoming a Slytherin.

But when the conductor's voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately" Al's stomach began to do somersaults again.

His hands felt clammy and they shook as he tried to stuff his chess set back into his trunk. He glanced at Rose, she looked as nervous as he felt. The color had drained from her face making her freckles stand out dark and vivid. But despite her obvious nerves, she caught his eye and grinned at him as they joined the noise crowd of students thronging the corridor, their pockets stuffed with the last of the sweets.

The train slowed and stopped with a lurch. People began to exit onto the small, dark platform. A vaguely familiar voice was booming: "Firs' years! Mind your step! Firs' years! Firs' years, meet here!"

Al knew the voice before he saw him, it was Hagrid. Al had only met Hagrid once before, his dad had taken them to tea at Hagrid's hut the summer before James's first year. But he wasn't someone you could forget easily. Sure enough Hagrid was standing out on the platform, twice as tall as anyone else and at least three times as wide.

"Alright there Hagrid?!" James shouted from somewhere over Al's right shoulder, James's arm suddenly clamped over Al's shoulder, as he marched him right up to the gigantic bearded man. "Dad said to say hi, this is my brother Al."

"Another one, eh," Hagrid's hairy face beamed down at them. He patted Al on the head, the force of which almost made him collapse to his knees. "Don't worry, you'll do great!"

"See, even Hagrid thinks you'll do great in Slytherin," James told as him. "See you at sorting."

James turned and walked off, but before Albus could lose him in the crowd James shouted over his shoulder, "Maybe you could go directly to the Slytherin table and save the hat some time."

He stuck out his tongue in response, but he wasn't sure if his brother had seen, James had already disappeared into the crowd with his friends.

"Albus hurry up," Rose grabbed his arm and he followed her down the steep, narrow path to the lake.

"You'll be able to see the castle in a few moments," Hagrid's booming voice called back to them. There was a loud "Ooh!" from the students ahead of them and Al heard someone shout "Wicked!"

The path turned a bend and opened suddenly at the edge of the great black lake. The castle was a shadowy black mass against the starry sky. Its glowing windows glistened in the night and the glow reflected in the still water of the lake. The castle's turrets and towers pierced the sky.

Al had never really appreciated just how huge Hogwarts was until now. He followed Rose into a boat with a girl he didn't recognize, Lysander followed them. His bright blue eyes bulged excitedly as the fleet of boats started to glide across the lake.

"Do you know what House you'll be in?" Lysander asked.

"James says I'm going to be in Slytherin," Al answered darkly.

"I've heard Slytherins aren't bad," the girl he didn't know told him. "My dad got to know a few of them during the Triwizard Tournament. He went to Durmstrang." She added in response to their questioning looks.

"I'm hoping for Ravenclaw," Lysander told them. "Like my mom."

"Ravenclaw wouldn't be bad, Mom said the sorting hat almost put her in Ravenclaw," said Rose, "but Dad will disinherit me if I'm anything except Gryffindor. Not that Mom would let him do it-- but still."

"If you had your choice, which house would you pick?" the girl he didn't know asked.

"I—I don't know," stammered Rose, uncertain.

"I'm hoping for Slytherin," the dark haired girl told them.

"At least I'll have a friend," said Al, feeling a bit more cheerful.


	2. Albus and the Sorting Hat

Chapter 2

The Sorting Hat

Hagrid clambered out of his boat which bobbed ominously, nearly dunking below the rippling surface, smoothed his wild gray streaked beard, and knocked three times on the large wooden door. A tall dark haired man with a round, deeply scared face opened the door. Al knew him, but he almost stepped backwards into the boat at the sight of him. He had never seen anyone look so strict.

"The firs' years, Professor Longbottom," said Hagrid.

"Thank-you, Professor Hagrid," Professor Longbottom's black robes billowed in the light breeze, silhouetted by the light glow from the doorway, as he spoke: "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Longbottom. This way please." He turned and led them across the flagstone Entrance Hall and into a small chamber off of the hall. Their shoes, still damp from the lake, squeaked on the smooth floor.

Al glanced around the Entrance Hall before entering the smaller chamber and noticed that Professor Hagrid had turned and gone through a different door. The door must have led to the Great Hall, because the drone of voices had grown slightly louder when the door was opened. Professor Longbottom gathered them around and closed the door behind them.

He started to tell about the four houses-- Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor-- and the sorting process, but Al didn't pay much attention having already drilled his parents on it so many times that he could have given the description speech himself.

In what seemed like almost no time at all they were being led out into the Great Hall in alphabetical order. An old pointed wizard's hat was sitting on a four legged stool in front of the House tables. Professor Longbottom led them up in front of the school and they lined up behind the hat, which had opened a rip near its brim like a mouth and started to sing:

"_Oh you may not find me pretty,_

_But you'll find I'm rather witty_

_You'll learn there is no greater sight_

_Than when our four Houses do unite_

_A thousand years or more ago_

_Before old Slytherin decided to blow_

_They shared a wish and a dream to teach_

_And formed their own houses, one for each_

_Slytherin_(it bent to the Slytherins) _favored the ambitious and the cunning_

_Gryffindor _(it bowed to the Gryffindors) _the brave at heart with nerve and daring_

_Hufflepuff _(it flicked its tip to the beat) _liked the loyal, patient, and hard working_

_Ravenclaw _(it bowed, bent, and flicked) _those of ready minded wit and learning_

_And though the founders are all dead_

_I can see inside your head,_

_So I may choose instead_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_Please watch the flap_

_And try me on for—_

_I've never once been wrong!"_

The students burst into applause as the hat bowed to each table and fell still.

"Alright, the sorting process will now begin," announced Professor Longbottom, "When I call your name you will come up and put on the Sorting Hat." He pulled out a long list. "Ackerley, Jillian" a girl with a heart-shaped face and freckles stumbled forward. She sat for a moment with the hat over her eyes before the hat called:

"Gryffindor!"

"Alderton, Cole!"

"Slytherin!"

"Bagnold, Bill" sat on the stool for what seemed like a full ten minutes before the hat yelled "Hufflepuff!" "Creevey, Emily" soon followed him and "Jewkes, Daphne" became the first Ravenclaw.

"Krum, Breanne!"

"Slytherin!"

Al recognized her as the girl from the boat. "Harkiss"… "Harris"… "Hopkirk"…"Llewellyn"… the P's were getting closer, his legs felt like they had turned to lead.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

The hat took awhile to decide, Al began to think how funny it would be if Scorpius ended up in anything other than Slytherin. Then he was almost sure the hat was going to put Scorpius in Gryffindor and send him to Slytherin.

"Slytherin!"

Malfoy walked away to the Slytherin table looking relieved.

"Ogden, Sarah!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Philpott, Randolph!"

"Slytherin!"

And then finally—

"Potter, Albus!"

Al walked forward to the stool and caught his brother's eye as he sat down. James smiled at him and mouthed _Slytherin_. His last comforting thought before the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes was that if anyone in his family belonged in Slytherin, it was his brother. Al stared at the dark inside of the hat, feeling as though he had eaten slugs for lunch instead of a sandwich.

"Interesting," the hat whispered in his ear, "another Potter. Your father and mother both did well in Gryffindor, but you seem to think you might do better in Slytherin. Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness; I think it had better be—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Al grinned and feeling relieved hurried off to the Gryffindor table before the hat could change its mind. Fred scooted down to make room and clamped him on the back, "Glad you changed your mind about Slytherin mate; we would have missed you!"

There weren't many people left to be sorted now. "Scamander, Lysander" was sorted into Ravenclaw, just like he had wanted. "Vance, Violet" joined them at the Gryffindor table. "Viridian, Wendy" went Ravenclaw. Then:

"Weasley, Rose!"

Al slid over a bit to make room for her.

"RAVENCLAW!"

He couldn't believe it. Rose glanced back at the Gryffindor table, caught his eye, and gave him a small wave as she walked over to join Lysander and the rest of the cheering Ravenclaws. "Zeller, Melanie" became a Hufflepuff and Professor Longbottom rolled up the list. He flicked his wand at the stool and hat, which vanished, and then took his seat at the staff table. The headmaster had gotten to his feet.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said. "Let the banquet begin!"

"I like Headmaster Hobday," said Christopher as the hefty headmaster sat down, "his start of term speeches get shorter every year."

"He's an improvement from old McGonagall. She was a good professor, but she was getting long winded towards the end." Said Fred conversationally, "Potatoes, Al?"

"Where's Nearly Headless Nick?" a third asked. Al looked around and sure enough there was no sign of a ghost at the Gryffindor table.

"Rumor has it he moved on," a sixth year boy called down the table, "He finally got accepted to join the Headless Hunt at the end of last year, guess it was the final push he needed."

"So who is the Gryffindor ghost now?" asked a first year girl with dark brown hair, who Al thought was named Violet Vance.

"Don't have one," Dan explained shortly between mouthfuls of something that was no longer recognizable.

"We asked Filch to be our ghost," Christopher told them.

"But he was disinclined to accept our request," Fred finished.

"He said he would rather die a thousand horrible deaths than be associated with a house full of dung bomb wielding brats like us," said Christopher with a pleased smirk. "Guess he would know, his death was awful."

"Tell the story of how he died," Dan insisted through a mouthful of potatoes. "I love hearing that story."

"It wouldn't be the start of term feast without it," James agreed.

"You tell it better than I do, Fred," Christopher told him.

"Alright," said Fred, pushing his plate away and clearly in his element as the first years leaned in to hear better and conversations dropped to whispers so that they could all hear.

"It all started on a dark and stormy day in mid April, with nothing exceptionally abnormal about it. Divination was almost over, which was a good thing because half the class had fallen asleep, and Professor Trelawney fell into a trance. Her voice grew really deep and her head fell forward into her cup of tea. Before she woke she prophesied that: _there would be one who would haunt us through history, one who would perform magic late in life_.

"We didn't know what to make of it until that night. Filch was chasing Peeves, toilet paper and bubblegum were everywhere from the Great Hall to the Owlery. Filch was sure that Peeves had finally done it; he wouldn't get away with it this time. He and his cat, Mrs. Norris, tracked him to the top of the North Tower, but he wasn't there.

"Just as Filch turned to go back down the stairs, he tripped over Mrs. Norris. He teetered for a moment before falling headfirst down the stairs; he rolled all the way to the dungeons. They probably wouldn't have found his body until the morning, if his ghost hadn't turned up ranting about Peeves in the headmistress's office.

"Leaving behind the imprint of his departed soul was the only magic Filch ever performed. Guess the Kwikspell courses paid off. Mrs. Norris died a week after; she followed him everywhere, even to the afterlife. Now they can haunt the corridors together. Needless to say, Divination enrollment has gone way up."

A shiver ran through the listening first years as they all looked over at the glowering and ghostly Filch.

"People say that was the last straw for old McGonagall," Christopher added. "She retired that year."

Conversations rippled down the table as they turned their attention back to the feast and their friends. After they were all stuffed to the limit and the platters were cleared, Professor Hobday got to his feet again and began to speak: "There are just a few start of term reminders I would like to remind you of. The Forbidden Forest is still forbidden to all students. There are several banned objects such Fanged Frisbees—"

Fred pulled one out from under his robe and held it up. Professor Hobday flicked his wand and the Fanged Frisbee flew to him, "A Fanged Frisbee. If you would like to check the compete list, it can be found by asking Filch," he gestured to the glowering ghostly form of Filch, "or Winky, our head house-elf. You may also ask your house prefects or our head boy and Girl." Victoire and a boy at the Hufflepuff table stood up.

"Classes will begin in the morning, so I suggest you all get a full night's sleep. That's all, good night." He pushed in his chair and the rest of the staff and students began to climb to their feet.

"Christopher," Victoire hissed. "Get your prefect's badge on! You are supposed to be showing the first years to the dormitory."

Christopher grimaced, much to his dad's and brother's horror and Victoire's glee, he had been made a prefect this year. He pulled the badge out of his pocket. Up until now he had completely ignored receiving it.

"I thought we had agreed we were going to return that thing," said Fred. Christopher shrugged and pinned it on.

"Gryffindor first years, over here! This way to the dormitory!" he shouted. Victorire grinned happily.

"I guess duty calls," Fred sighed and pulled his own badge out of his pocket. "Quidditch Captain" was printed on it in bold gold letters. He pulled a small firework out of his pocket and lit it with his wand. It screeched all the way up to the enchanted ceiling and exploded over the crowded entrance hall, spelling out in vivid colors: "Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts 9/15; be there, Captain's Orders!"

Al ran to catch up with Christopher with Lee Llewellyn, also a Gryffindor first year, following close at his heels. Panting, they caught up with him near the middle of the marble staircase, it was lucky they had, because at the top he ducked into a secret passageway behind a painting of a bearded lady. They filed in behind him and out the other end.

"Shouldn't we go back for the others Chris?" asked Al, realizing that Christopher seemed to have left behind at least half of the first years. Christopher turned around and counted them.

"Nah, Victoire and the others will round up the rest of the midgets." He led them up to a portrait of a fat lady in a glamorous pink dress. "By the way the password is _domi adsum_."

The portrait swung forward, revealing the portrait hole. Christopher showed them into the round common room, which was lit by a crackling fire and filled with comfortable looking armchairs, and he pointed them off to their separate dormitories. Al raced with Lee and Rodger Gudgeon across the common room, to the annoyance of a few of the older students, and up to their dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. Chris collapsed into the nearest chair, apparently exhausted by his prefect duties.

The three of them reached the door at the same time and burst through, tripping over each other, unsure who had won. Their trunks had already been brought up and placed at the feet of their four poster beds. They changed and got ready for bed, sleepily talking about Quidditch teams, classes, and nothing at all. Two of the other first year boys hadn't turned up yet. But Al was too tired to worry much about it. He fell comfortably into his four poster bed and was soon asleep.


	3. The Start of Term

Chapter 3

Start of Term

Wednesday morning, the second day of September, Albus rolled out of bed. Sometime during the night, the rest of his house mates had turned up and they all had a laugh at Rick Grant, a tall, skinny, blonde haired boy, who had followed the Ravenclaw first years instead of the Gryffindors.

Rick was Muggleborn and he had brought a weird white stick of something called deodorant, which apparently Muggles rubbed onto their armpits to keep them from smelling bad. Rick had started to demonstrate it for them and Lee had explained, between snorts, that he wouldn't need it, because wizarding soap is enchanted with freshness charms.

They finished getting ready and went down to breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindors in the Great Hall. Victoire was cheerfully walking along the Gryffindor table passing our schedules. She paused every once in a while to glare at Christopher, who was slumped between James and Fred complaining bitterly about having double potions with Slughorn first thing in the morning. Victoire handed them each a schedule and Al quickly tried to memorize it between gulps of pumpkin juice.

All of the Gryffindor first years' schedules were the same. They had Herbology, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Charms on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he had Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy. Wednesday nights he had Astronomy at Midnight, so Thursdays his classes were all in the afternoon. And on every other Friday, all of the classes were a little shorter, which gave them the afternoon off.

Al grabbed a few slices of toast and headed off to Herbology with Lee, Rose, and Lysander. Professor Longbottom was just finishing his rounds, walking through the greenhouses and checking on the plants. "Greenhouse One today," he shouted as he closed the door and checked the lock on Greenhouse Six. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Yeah, James got bit by a garden gnome," Al remembered with relish. "Mum said to send you her love."

Rose laughed, "The face James made when it bit him was priceless."

"Yeah, that's wonderful! Gnome saliva is enormously beneficial." Said Lysander, looking a little confused when Rose and Al snorted with laughter.

"Is it really?" Lee asked.

"Oh, Professor Longbottom, this is Lee, Lee Llewellyn," said Al, realizing that he hadn't introduced him. "And you know Lysander Scamander, right?"

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Llewellyn," Professor Longbottom's round, deeply scarred face broke into a grin as he dusted off his hands on his already muddy robes and shook Lee's hand. "And yes, I've met Lysander, tell your mum hi for me, would you? Take a seat at one of the benches," he told them as more first years began filtering into the greenhouse looking lost.

They sat down together at one of the cracked and grubby wooden benches which looked like it was held together by nothing but magic and the compacted potting soil that had become ingrained into the rotting wood.

Professor Longbottom started to pass around empty planters and some long, fluffy looking plants. "Alright class, five points to anyone who can tell me the name of these plants. Yes Ms. Weasley?" Rose's hand had immediately shot up in the air.

"They're Gynokises," said Rose, as Al looked at her in disbelief.

"Very good, five points to… which house is it?"

"Ravenclaw, sir."

"Alright, five points to Miss Weasley of Ravenclaw."

Rose turned back to Al and the others, smiling.

"How do you know this stuff already?" Al asked, shocked.

"Well, you should have known too, Gran'mum has them out in the garden at the Burrow."

Al looked closer at the fluffy, plum colored plants in front of him, they did look vaguely familiar.

The Gynokis plants didn't seem to like being transplanted, once removed from their old pots, their worm-like roots began to wiggle like mad and wrap around anything in within reach. One particularly long tuber latched around his thumb and began to squeeze painfully as he tried to force it into one of the larger pots. Professor Longbottom walked around giving pointers like:

"Be careful not to let them get a hold of your hair— speed is everything, the longer they are out of the soil, the harder it will be to put them back."

Professor Longbottom began telling them all about the Gynokis plants, which were apparently used to neutralize the effects of potions and, oddly enough, they were the favorite food of garden gnomes.

After Herbology, the Gryffindors tramped back up to their tower, which Al was sure had moved since that morning, to clean themselves up a little before Transfiguration started. After a little convincing from Rodger, they left the common room few minutes early so that they could find the classroom. But they shouldn't have bothered, because they spent the next half hour running from Peeves, the poltergeist, who pelted them with spit balls. To top it off Professor Higgly assigned them each an extra foot on their essay about the basics of Transfiguration for being late to class. They were all in a bad mood by lunch.

Fred glanced up and grinned as first years sat down at the Gryffindor table, "How's it going, Al?"

"It was a bit Peevesish, if you know what I mean," said Al.

"Yeah," Fred leaned in closer "I'm gathering up the team and a few others for some pre-tryouts Quidditch practice want to come?"

"Definitely," said Al, knowing Fred wouldn't have invited a first year who wasn't his cousin.

"Good man," Fred exclaimed as he patted Al on the head and walked off to the other end of the table to round up more players. "See you tomorrow on the Quidditch field, twelve thirty sharp!"

"See you then."

"Hi, Potter"

Albus looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see the dark haired girl from the boat standing there. She sat down next to him.

"Did you mean what you said on the boat, about us being friends?" she asked simply.

"Wha-yeah," said Al, he had just noticed how pretty her eyes were.

"Good," she said and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Your name is Breanne, right?"

"Yes, Breanne Marie Krum, but I go by Ann," she grinned, "Can I call you Al?"

"Sure."

"Alright Al"

"Hey Krum— Are you related to Viktor Krum?" James asked, "The Quidditch player?"

"Yes, he's my dad," she said.

"Isn't he the one Aunt Hermione dated?" Chris asked curiously.

"See you in history of magic Al," Roxana said, ignoring the comments.

"Yeah, see you later, Ann," Albus called as she headed back over to the Slytherin table.

"All this time I thought James was joking about you making friends with Slytherins," said Chris laughing, but at the same time he seemed a little impressed. "Looks like you found yourself a girlfriend, even James didn't get one that quick."

"She's not my girlfriend, but we do already have something in common," said Al.

"Like what?" Chris asked.

"Famous parents," said Al.

Al met up with Roxana outside the door to the great hall after lunch and walked with her and Lee to history of magic.

"You know people from other houses don't usually sit at the Gryffindor house table," he told her.

"Why? There's no rule against it is there?" she asked. "You don't bite do you?"

"No, but—"

"Try telling that to the Quidditch teams," Lee laughed.

"You might have gotten sorted into the wrong house," he told her. "You're too daring to be a Slytherin."

"What?" she asked. "You don't think Slytherins are brave?"

He grinned, "No, but you are."

Lee rolled his eyes and pretended to vomit into his hat.

________

Miles away from Hogwarts, Harry Potter sat in his office at the Ministry of Magic; proof reading the report of the latest Azkaban breakout. He was slightly taller than average with untidy black hair and glasses. He was not an extraordinary looking man; in fact the only thing extraordinary about him was a lightning bolt scar on the forehead of his thin, clean-shaven face.

To a casual onlooker it would look like he was working diligently, but every once in a while his eyes would shift from the report on his desk to the bit of parchment spread across his knee and find the tiny dots that represented his sons, James and Albus Potter.

He knew he shouldn't be spying on his kids. He had been watching off and on ever since last night when he had watched the little dot marked "Albus Potter" get sorted into Gryffindor. He watched as that same dot marked "Albus Potter" made its way to History of Magic and as the dot marked "James Potter" disappeared into the section of the map marked "in need of redrawing," probably heading off to Care of Magical Creatures.

Large sections of the castle no longer showed up on the map since it had been rebuilt after the battle. Harry sighed, as head of the Auror department he knew he should not be wasting the day hunched over an old map, pretending to be working on reports. There was work to be done. He pulled out his wand, tapped the map and whispered "Mischief managed."


	4. The tale spins

Chapter 4

Quidditch

Despite having shorter classes, Friday morning seemed to be crawling by. Every first and third Friday was a half-day giving everyone some free time in the afternoon to be used for things like Quidditch matches, study time, clubs, detentions and special events. But this Friday happened to be Al's first chance to try out his broom on the Quidditch pitch.

He wouldn't have his first flying lesson until Monday, but he had grown up flying his toy broom around the house and he had talked his dad into buying him a broomstick along with his school supplies while James, Lily, and Mum were at Gringotts, the wizarding bank. Dad wasn't allowed in Gringotts, the goblins still remembered that he had robbed them, destroyed most of the bank, and escaped on a stolen dragon. The goblins didn't particularly like Albus either; he supposed it was because he looked so much like his dad.

Al really didn't mind if the goblins disliked him, he liked looking at all the new broomsticks and talking about Quidditch with his dad. Mum hadn't been too pleased when she found out they had been buying a broom instead of school robes, but Al wasn't sure if she was mad that Dad had bought him a broom, or just mad that Dad had bought him his first broom without her. Both of his parents liked Quidditch. They had played on the Gryffindor team together in their Hogwarts days. Mum had even gone on to play professionally for the Holyhead Harpies.

Almost his entire family had played Quidditch at some point. Even Victorire was good on a broom, she had played keeper in her third year, but she quit the team after a Bludger hit her in the nose and nearly knocked her off of her broom.

Al checked his watch. In just a few more minutes he would be free from charms class and out on the Quidditch field with Fred and the others. Time seemed to be passing at snail speed. Even his watch seemed to be moving slower than usual. They had been practicing swishing and flicking their wands all period long. He started a count down under his breath, "seven… six… five… four… three—"

To his annoyance, Professor Flitwick kept them a few minutes late in charms assigning them homework to practicing charm pronunciations and their wand motions. Fred and the others were already getting ready to head down to the Quidditch field by the time he climbed through the portrait hole.

"You'd better hurry if you're coming," James shouted at him as he ran up to his dormitory to grab his broom. Al made the trip up and down the stairs in record time and followed his brother out to the portrait hole with his broomstick over his shoulder.

James twirled his bat in his hand as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch, nonchalantly levating dirt clods and sending them flying across the grounds. James and Fred were both Beaters. James had only been on the team since last year, but his Bludgers were still dangerous. James was quick on his broom and had equally good aim; to date this had resulted in two black eyes, 7 nose bleeds, a few intercepted plays, and several bruises.

As for Fred, Al wasn't sure who had first let Fred Weasley loose with a bat and Bludgers, but he would never have to play against his cousin in a real game, so he didn't worry too much about it. Fred was a lethal weapon with a broom and could be flat out scary when he had a bat and in his hand. Last year, Fred had knocked Jim Jones, a bulky 7th year chaser, clean off his broom, Jones had to leave the game and get his skull mended in the hospital wing. James found the story particularly amusing and had spent the summer repeating in graphic detail.

There wasn't a single player on one of the other house teams that hadn't felt the bone crunching sensation of one of Fred's Bludgers. Even Clare Weasley, their cousin and Ravenclaw chaser, had been hit more than once. She had even gotten a broken wrist from one once — which Fred apologized for— after the Gryffindors won.

Al had never been on a real Quidditch field before. Excited butterflies filled his stomach as he looked up at the three fifty foot high goal posts. He looked around the stadium and tried to imagine what it would look like with the hundreds of raised seats filled with spectators.

Fred passed around some chicken. He was complaining to Abbey about the house-elves: "They used to be happy to give food away, now all of a sudden Winky decides that I should be charged for all my special requests. It's just chicken!"

"Well you did ask for it to be delivered to the Quidditch pitch at lunch time, that is a little out of the way—"

Al sat down on the grassy pitch and ate a couple pieces of chicken with the others. He finished eating and kicked off the ground into the air. He was good at flying a broom when it came to going forward, backward, and side to side, but dives were another matter. Al had only played in his back yard, where they couldn't go any higher than the tree tops or else they might be seen by muggles from the neighboring village, so flying up and down was something new. The older students kicked off the ground too and Al followed them as they flew up to the height of the goal posts and then higher.

He soon found that playing a 100 feet in the air, with real Quidditch balls instead of pine cones, was very different from playing in his back yard. Albus hovered high in the air as James zipped smugly around him.

"Catch, Al!" Fred shouted. He tossed the Quaffle to Al. He tried not to look down and mentally willed himself to let go of the broom. He caught it! He threw it to Jeanie, a chaser, and immediately clinged to his broom again. He was beginning to get a little braver and let go with one hand and then the other as he weaved between the three goal posts, caught the Quaffle, and then flew back up to pass to Abbey, who quickly passed it behind her back to Jake.

Jake threw it at James. James caught it easily and quickly passed it to Dan. Dan nearly missed and threw it to Christopher, who threw it at James. James hit it with his bat like a Bludger and sent it rocketing at Fred's head. Fred ducked at the last second and James dipped into a dive back towards the ground, Al followed close behind him.

James seemed to sense this and steepened the dive, butterflies filled Al's stomach. The ground was getting closer and closer. He was going to crash. Al pulled up sharply and to his horror flipped all the way over. He fell the last few feet and landed flat on his back on the grassy pitch. When he opened his eyes the entire field was spinning.

"Well that's one way to do it," James landed smoothly next to him. Al felt his ears turn red.

"Alright, Al?" Fred landed next to him shaking with silent laughter. Al nodded and sat up slowly. "Next time you decide to show off your Quidditch moves you should let us know. That was—" Fred collapsed on the ground next to Al laughing, "fantastic."

The rest of the players had started to swoop down to see what was going on. James plopped down on the grass with him looking pleased with himself and wrapped his arm around his brother, whose face had turned tomato red.

"It was a quite good dive, for a first year," said James fairly, concealing a grin. "But you might want to work on the landing a bit." Jeanie, who had landed next to them, giggled. Al supposed this was James's version of brotherly advice.

"Alright Al?" Abbey Longbottom, the Gryffindor Keeper, asked as touched down behind Jeanie, she was the only one in the group who actually seemed slightly concerned.

"Oh, he's fine!" said Fred cheerfully, "Poor little Albus here just got the wind knocked out of him is all. Come on, back to practice."

Jeanie put out a hand and helped him to his feet as Christopher, Jake Cresswell, and a few other Gryffindors landed around them. He still felt a little dizzy.

"Don't worry Al," Christopher teased, "I'm sure they'll teach you how to land at your flying lesson on Monday."

"What was wrong with the way I did it?" Al asked, acting surprised that Chris thought he needed flying lessons, but secretly hoping he was right about the landing lessons.


	5. Owl post

Chapter Five

Post Owls

After dinner with the others that evening he returned to the dormitory—still feeling sore— and wrote to his parents for the first time since sorting:

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I miss you already, but Hogwarts is starting to feel like home. Everyone's been nice, even James has been better than usual. I got to fly out on the Quidditch field for the first time this afternoon. My first flying lesson is on Monday, I'm looking forward to getting more practice__—_He debated for a moment about mentioning that he had just crashed, but decided it would just worry his mum_— __I don't think I have a chance at making the team, but I'm going to try out anyways. Unlike James, I'm behaving myself and studying hard. Don't worry about James; it's just his usual detentions. Slughorn invited me to join the Slug Club and the whole family is invited to his Halloween party. We don't have to go, do we?_

_Love you,_

_Albus_

_P.S. Can I have an Owl for Christmas?_

Al smiled as he reread the letter. Professor Slughorn was a short, fat old wizard who had been teaching potions classes since before Voldemort's Hogwarts days. He was enormously fat with a walrus like mustache, bald pate, and prominent watery eyes surround by deep wrinkles. His list of ailments seemed to get a bit longer everyday. Weak chest, wheezy, Rheumatism, and fatigue were a few of his favorite complaints. He had recently taken to levitating himself in his chair through the hallways complaining about the pains of old age, his feet bobbing along ahead of him on a padded golden footstool.

Al hated going to Sluggies parties and gatherings, which dad was always invited to, and he doubted if he would like the Slug Club meetings much better. But despite Slughorn's less than likable characteristics, Al liked having him as a professor and potions was quickly becoming one of his most interesting classes.

He folded up the letter and headed off to the owlery... he really wanted an owl of his own.

After a long flight through the night, the barn owl flew through the open window and dropped the letter on top of the daily profit at the kitchen table back at home where Harry Potter was just sitting down to breakfast. Harry Potter unfolded the letter sleepily read through it twice, before pulling out a piece of parchment from his briefcase and starting a quick reply:

_Dear Albus,_

_Your mother and I miss you too and I'm glad your first week at Hogwarts is going well—_He paused there and pulled the marauders map out of his pocket_—I am including something to make learning your way around the castle easier. It once belonged to your grandfather. Solemnly swear you are up to no good until your mischief is managed, but be good and stay out of mischief. Try your best at the Quidditch tryouts, if you don't make the team your mum and I will love you anyway. _

_Mum and I both send our love,_

_Dad_

_P.S. Sorry if this is confusing, it's early in the morning and I haven't had my coffee yet. Use the map well._

He folded up the letter and tied it to the waiting school owl's leg with the marauders' map and watched as the owl flew away with one of the only two possessions he had inherited from his dad, but it was time to pass it on to the next generation of mischief makers. After all, he had no real use for the map since he had left Hogwarts and their grandfather, James Potter Sr., would have been highly disappointed if his grandkids never discovered all of Hogwart's secret passageways.


	6. In a Moment

Chapter 6

In a Moment

Scorpius Malfoy walked along the sandy edge of the lake, the wind flapped through his black school robes and slipped through his usually neatly combed hair, flipping it out of place. The dull over cast day reflected his mood. He was homesick, lonely, and bored.

Nothing was going the way he had expected. He had always imagined that everyone would be impressed by the heir to the Malfoy name and legacy; instead he had had to endure snide remarks and insults. He could still hear the comments ringing in his head: "_Hey, it's the death eater whelp." "I wish the hat had sent him to a different house; hasn't his family brought enough shame to the Slytherins?" "Tell him his parents should send their spawn to a different school."_

He let his book bag slip off to the ground and flopped down underneath a nearby birch tree.

On the other side of the lake the Gryffindors had gathered in the stadium for Quidditch tryouts. Albus sat on the grass with Rose nervously fiddling with one of the twigs at the end of his broom. He was still a little sore from his crash landing, but that hadn't stopped him from going out to the Quidditch stadium to practice every chance he got over the week-end.

"Don't worry Al," Rose told him, "you're going to do great. You're a great flier."

"Yeah, I hope so," said Al quietly, still unconvinced.

He tucked the letter from his dad, back in his pocket; he would make sense of it later. He still wasn't sure why his dad had sent him an old piece of parchment, but he couldn't think about his dad's clues or the map now. He was too nervous about trying to make the team.

"Oye Rose!" Fred flew over to them and Al nearly dropped his broom. "You're my cousin and I like you, but you're going to have to clear off because this tryout is for Gryffindors only."

"Who crowned you king of the stadium?" Rose asked climbing to her feet angrily. "You can't kick me out and I want to cheer for Al. I want to watch the tryouts."

"You can watch me kick you out!" said Fred irritated that she was challenging his authority over everything related to Quidditch.

"I'll tell."

"No you won't, now scram. Don't make me curse you." Fred threatened waving his wand and looking irritated, but only half serious. "If you are not in Gryffindor I don't want you here."

"Come on Fred, let her stay. It's Rose; she's not a Ravenclaw spy," said Al coming to her aid.

"Don't bother Al; I'll let you both get back to your Quidditch," said Rose glaring at both of them. "Good luck with it."

She stomped off across the grass and out of the stadium, getting a little angrier with every step. She couldn't believe that her own cousin had made her leave just because she wasn't a Gryffindor. The injustice of it burned like fire.

_There's no point in getting mad_, a little voice whispered in her head, _just get even_. But she was angry and how on earth could she get even with Fred? She walked without paying attention to where her legs were taking her and without caring, so long as it was far away from stupid Fred Weasley and stupid Quidditch.

From the other side of the lake, Scorpius Malfoy watched as the minuscule Quidditch players took to the air and Captain Weasel started the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts. He didn't know why they bothered with tryouts. He was going to beat them all as soon as he made the Slytherin team.

He smirked smugly to himself. No Weasley, or Potter for that matter, was going to out fly him. He was the best there was and, if his housemates would just give him a chance to prove it, the Quidditch cup would be theirs for the taking.

Rose stopped slightly out of breath, picked up a stone, and threw it out over the water towards the Quidditch stadium, to where she could just make out the back of Fred's bright red head. She knew she couldn't really hit him from here, but it was still worth trying.

She picked up stone after stone and threw them out over the water imagining with each one that she had managed to knock Fred off his broom. But each one stopped short and landed with a small, unsatisfactory plop in the water. Frustrated she pulled out her wand and pointed it at a boulder.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" She made a wild swish and flick motion with her wand and to her surprise she managed to levitate it out over the water before it dropped into the lake.

Scorpius jumped at the sound of the loud splash, it sounded as if it was close by. He looked around for its source. Large ripples spread across the lake. Surely no one would be in the lake he thought incredulously. No, of course not, no one would want to go swimming this time of year.

The Weasley girl was standing by the lake shore with her wand out. What was she doing here? What had made the splash? The thought barely had a chance to cross his mind before he noticed a pair of large eyes emerged from the lake and regard the small red haired girl for a moment before slipping back below the surface.

The next moment a long tentacle slid out from just below the dark surface and in one smooth motion it looped itself around her and swiftly yanked her headfirst into the deep depths of the lake before she even had a chance to scream.

Scorpius stared in shock at the spot where the girl had stood just a moment before. It was real; she had been there just a moment before. Without a thought he grabbed his wand, sprinted to the lake shore, took a breath, and with out thinking dived in after her.

It wasn't until he was pulling himself deeper into the chilly lake looking for any sign of the red headed girl or the thing that had grabbed her—and feeling weighted down by his robes— that he began to think that maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe he should go to get help. But then he saw it.

Instinctively he aimed his wand and sent red sparks at the creature. To his relief it released its grip on the redheaded figure. Within moments it had turned away and disappeared into the dark cloudy water.

It was hard to swim, he kicked off his shoes. The water pressed heavily around him; despite kicking with all his might he couldn't seem to get any closer to her, he needed air, but she was sinking deeper into the lake, out of his reach. It seemed like he had been in the lake for ages. There was no hope, he couldn't help. He had to go up for air or he would drown. But she was still sinking deeper into the dark water below.

Scorpius blinked, she was gone. No she couldn't be gone. He kicked harder and fought to clear his head. He was beginning to feel dizzy and disoriented. He no longer knew which way was up. The only thing that mattered was reaching her before the urge to take a breath took over and he breathed in, filling his lungs with water.

His lungs ached as he swam deeper into the lake. There was no turning back now; he wasn't going to leave without her. She still out reach, but not as far away as the surface had become. Panic creped into his conscience, he was going to die. His life was over; he would never see the surface again or take another breath of air. But he was getting closer.

He could see her clearly now. Her face was pale and shadowy beneath her slowly swirling locks of red hair. His hand closed around her wrist. He pulled her through the water close to him and shook her with all the strength he could muster, hoping against hope that she would wake.

A few bubbles floated out of her mouth, the last of her air. She felt cold in his arms; he shivered and wondered if she was already dead. He began to try to swim again and pulled her with him in the general direction he thought the bubbles had gone, in the direction he hoped the surface was. They had to get air; he had to get to the surface.

His head was starting to feel cloudy, maybe if he closed his eyes he would wake up in his bed at home, safe and warm. He could see his room and could almost imagined that he was there, but he could still feel the cold water pressing in around him and her dead weight in his arms, he was still in the dark cloudy depths of the lake. His eardrums pounded painfully.

His vision was blurring, he couldn't see anything except light and dark shadows, little specks of light drifted across his line of sight. The humming in his ears was replaced by voices, someone was singing. Everything went black; he seemed oddly detached from his body as one by one his senses shut down. Someone was still singing, but they were far away, detached from him and the eerie silence that filled his head. Perhaps this is what is felt like to die. The nothing took over and he remembered no more.


	7. Vanishing Acts

Chapter 7

Vanishing Acts

"Alright, since two of our team members have graduated and someone has decided to focus on his OWL's this year, we have three spots available on the Quidditch team this year," Fred told them. Christopher shrank slightly under Fred's gaze, knowing he was the someone.

He could still visualize his brother's shocked and horrified expression when he had informed Fred that he wanted to give up being a chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team in order to focus more on academics. He was still staying on the team a reserve player and assistant coach, but this year he couldn't put any of his focus on Quidditch. Chris knew that he was the shame of his family; no Weasley had ever chosen school over Quidditch, except for Uncle Percy. But getting good scores was important this year.

Somewhere between his many visits to the hospital wing he had become fascinated with healing spells. He wanted to become a healer. If he didn't get top scores in everything, he would have to give up his ambition. But he couldn't explain this to his dad and brother. They both loved the joke shop and were planning on including him in the family business, just as soon as Fred retired from playing professional Quidditch.

He liked jokes, but he didn't want them to be his career. Making people laugh was fun, but it wasn't the same as saving someone's life. He wanted to be able to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it. Nothing was more important, exciting, and fascinating than that, not even Quidditch. He just wished he knew how to explain that to his dad.

The only person who knew about his career choice was Uncle Percy. He could still picture the broad, laughing smile that shot across his uncle's usually stern face when he had told him that he wanted to become a healer. His uncle had leapt out of his chair, ran around his desk, kissed him on the forehead, and promised to help him with his NEWTs, if he could get all the necessary grades on his OWLs. He wished he could get that excited of a reaction from the rest of the family.

Fred's speech was drawing to a close, "You all flew brilliantly, but unfortunately only three of you will make the team. If anyone would like to challenge a current team member for their place, you are more than welcome to. But first we need to fill the vacant spots-- Two chasers and a seeker."

Scorpius blinked and sat up dizzily, feeling disoriented. Slowly reality began to sink in. He located the red headed figure a few paces away and stumbled over to Rose's lifeless form. His legs moved on their own accord, disengaged from his brain. Her grabbed her shoulder and shook her but she remained motionless. With numb fingers he pulled out his wand and waved it. He didn't know any spell, so he shouted, "wake-up." But nothing happened. Her threw the useless wooden stick on the ground and leaned over her.

He had seen a Muggle movie with Great Uncle Ted and his cousin, Teddy, during a brief period when Grandma Malfoy and her sister were being civil to each other. In the movie a Muggle girl had nearly drowned, but a guy blew air into her mouth and revived her. Scorpius's lips hovered above Rose's as he tried to work up the nerve to try it.

Rose blinked blearily. A worried face came into focus. Rose's face turned red when she realized it was Malfoy's face hovering a few inches above hers. She pushed him roughly away and sat up slowly. The lake seemed to spin around her.

"Can you walk?" He asked sounding scared. "You should probably visit the hospital wing."

"Yes, I can walk Malfoy." Rose said annoyed. "What happened?"

"You just drowned, that's what happened!" Scorpius threw his hands up in the air. He had forgotten how annoying Rose was.

"I did not!"

"You were sinking like a rock all the way to the bottom of the lake." Rose really could be thick sometimes.

"Wait," Rose eyed his suspiciously. "How did I end up in the lake?"

Scorpius stared at her. "Don't you remember?"

"No, I don't remember, but I'm sure whatever happened you did it." Rose swayed unsteadily as she got to her feet and he caught her arm to keep her from falling back into the lake. "Don't be nice now; I'm going to make sure you get detention for this."

She pulled away from him and he dropped her.

"Fine, but next time you need help don't go calling for me!" Scorpius shouted. "This is the last time I act like a stupid Gryffindork."

Scorpius stormed off, not caring anymore if she was okay or not. He was done playing hero. The sorting hat's words playing in his head: _you could do well in Gryffindor_. He sighed, he hadn't been trying to be a do-gooder. He wanted to be cunning and clever like a Slytherin. Not a stupid Gryffindor who liked to play week-end hero. How could he have acted so rashly and impulsively?

It was probably better to let everyone think he had tried to drown the weasel. No one liked him anyway and he didn't want his grandfather to find out he had almost died doing something so stupid, trying to save a blood traitor Weasley for no good reason. No one would believe the story about the giant squid and he didn't want to tell it. He did deserve a detention for his behavior. How could he be this stupid? Maybe he would get expelled. At the moment, Scorpius really didn't care. He wanted to be sent home.

Al walked down to the hospital wing after dinner to check on Rose and found that she was just getting ready to leave.

"Feeling better?" Al asked her.

"A bit," Rose answered. "There are still some gaps that I can't remember. Madam Pomfrey thinks they were caused from the lack of Oxygen, not magic. So, they should fill in gradually with time.

"Do you remember how you ended up in the lake?" Al asked curiously.

"Not a thing, but I'm sure Malfoy is guilty. I can't believe he got away with it!" Rose moaned. "That slimy git. I wish we could sneak down to the Slytherin dormitory and jinx him in his sleep."

Al laughed, "It's a good thought, but I think we would need to steal Dad's invisibility cloak to do it."

Rose looked at him seriously, looking thoughtful.

"I was joking Rose," Al added quickly. "We're not stealing my dad's cloak."

"But we don't need a cloak to be invisible." Rose murmured to herself. "Especially not if it is dark, this could work!"

"Rose?" Al asked uncertainly. "What are you thinking? You're not going to try to make Polyjuice potion are you?"

Rose sent him a scathing look, "Of course not Al, that could take months. We're going to get him tonight. Come on."

She jumped to her feet and he followed at her heels, still feeling a little uneasy about her plans, "Where are we going?"

"The library."

It only took Rose a few minutes to find the book she was looking for: _Advanced Magic: the art of invisibility_. Al followed silently behind her, knowing she would have to explain everything sooner or later. He was baffled though when she led him into a girl's bathroom.

"Rose," he hissed. "I can't get caught in here."

"We aren't going to get caught," Rose stated confidently as she began to flip through the book.

Al was about to ask her why not, but the question was answered for him when a ghost drifted through the bathroom stall door. Something clicked into place in his memory, "Oh, hi Myrtle."

The ghost's glasses were so thick, they almost couldn't be seen through. "What are you doing in here?" the ghost asked with thick ghostly tears rolling down her cheeks, her face changed ever so slightly as she noticed Al.

"Oh, taking after your father I see," she said. She seemed happy for a moment before her expression faded back into misery. "He never comes to visit me anymore." She wailed. "No one wants to visit me."

She wailed miserably and flew head first into the toilet, slashing water everywhere. "Who wants to spend time with _Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!_" she gurgled from inside the toilet, choked up with tears.

"We might get a few moments of peace if you flush the toilet," Rose murmured. "Here it is."

"Are you going to tell me what were doing?" Al asked.

"We're going to use this spell." Rose answered, pointing to the book. "It's the one from the stories, the one Mad-eye used to help camouflage the order."

"Do you think you can do it?"

"It can't be too hard," Rose said. "Come here."

Rose tapped his head with her wand. An odd sensation oozed from the tip of her want, down his face to his neck.

Al looked in the mirror, his head wasn't exactly gone. It had just taken on the appearance of the bathroom wall behind him. "Rose!"

"Opps, sorry."

"I can't walk around the school looking like this." He stared at his headless figure.

"You're welcome to share my toilet," Myrtle chortled. "I don't mind."

Rose flipped through the book, "maybe the spell is faulty, here I'll try the reversal spell."

She did the counter spell and Al watched in the mirror as his hair turned back dark. "Gee, thanks Rose, that's a lot better."

"Just stay here," Rose said hurried out the door.

"Where are you going?" Al yelled after her, but she was already out the door. Al sighed and leaned against the bathroom wall. How had he let Rose drag him into this mess? The last thing he needed right now was to get caught in a girls bathroom without a face. He'd never be able to explain it to a teacher.

He picked the slightly damp book up off of the bathroom floor— Aunt Hermione would throw a fit if she knew how Rose mistreated books—and pulled out his wand, deciding to try to fix it himself. He scrunched up his eyes and concentrated as he said the spell, hoping it would work. This time, the feeling spread all the way down to his toes. Hardly daring to look, he opened his eyes. All he could see was faint outline and his shadow on the floor, it had worked. He had out charmed Rose!

He pulled out the map and quickly located her dot at the library. He smiled; with the map he could see the entire school. Maybe this would be fun.


End file.
